


a tale as old as time

by jarofclay



Series: golden basketball boys [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofclay/pseuds/jarofclay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life inside the cursed walls of Aomine Daiki's castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a tale as old as time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fayah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayah/gifts).



> written for Fayah/gummyfoxes for the _knb secret santa_ event on tumblr. I am the slowest person on earth at publishing stuff outside tumblr lol hahahAPPY VALENTINE although belated.

“You would look more approachable if you simply put some effort into taming your hair,” Tetsuya says reproachfully, wielding a cotton towel in one hand and a comb in the other, swinging them in the general direction of Daiki’s wet mane and probably, to Daiki, the comb looks far more threatening than all of the weapons people have ever brandished at him.

“I really don’t want to hear anything from you about taming hair,” Daiki scoffs, still eyeing the comb warily, as if he expects it to come to life and wriggle out of Tetsuya’s hand and charge him—which, all things considered, is a possibility that doesn’t sound so farfetched, inside the walls of Daiki’s castle. “I’ve seen how _your_ hair looks in the morning and I can assure you, it is no better than mine.”

Nonetheless, whether it’s because he’s making a scene more out of habit than actual displeasure or because he’s developed an interesting, lovely weakness to Tetsuya’s unwavering stare—or both—in the end Daiki sits in the chair Tetsuya offers anyway, and Tetsuya climbs the creaking wooden stepladder positioned behind him to rinse the water out of Daiki’s mane.

‘Predictably enough,’ Satsuki is delighted to add mentally, unable to keep hidden the flash of a complacent smile—and by the way everyone around her joins her silent happiness, if their eyes gleaming knowingly from the shelves and the couches in the room are anything to go by, the others share the thought.

“What would be the point in doing this, anyway,” Daiki adds in a grumpier voice, looking down at his clawed paws, furry black brows knit together in what he always tries to play off as spite towards an unworthy world, but Satsuki knows better. “It’s not like, aside from today, we have any visitors—or ones that don’t come here in order to kill me, at any rate. Don’t have mirrors, either.”

The fire in the chimney crackles for some seconds before, tolerant as ever, to the point Satsuki wonders what the hell they did to deserve such a blessed addition to the castle’s servants, Tetsuya sighs. “I wouldn’t mind being able to easily see your eyes once in a while, Aomine-kun, instead of joining a search party to look for them in this tuft of unkempt fur.”

Daiki gapes at that, until among the audience someone fails to stifle a snicker and kindly offers him an excuse to glare around the room for the culprit.

An audible, familiar ticking attracts the attention of the peculiar crowd to the mantel.

“If I may interject,” Shintarou says, scornful, as he opens the glass protecting his brass pendulum with an annoyed clack and carefully adjusts his whimsical minute hand, “you do have mirrors, my Lord, trust me. The fact that you’ve so easily forgotten about them doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how long it took us to cover any reflecting surface in this castle for your self-satisfaction.”

“Ah, those days,” Ryouta chimes in distractedly from beside Shintarou, more busy with gazing in fascination at the odd, unforgettable sight of an ill-tempered raven beast having his mane aggressively combed by a quiet pale boy a quarter his size on a stepladder. “No one ever realized how many mirrors there actually were in this place until we had to cover them all, and even with our limited physical abilities—Kurokocchi, will you comb my hair too one day? I swear, mine is a lot more beautiful and softer than Aominecchi’s.”

“If that’s so, it probably won’t need grooming by my inexperienced hands,” Tetsuya says flatly, but some of Ryouta’s many flaws are his love for the sound of his own petulant voice and his shameless stubbornness.

“Then you could clean up my wax! Or you can polish me! Don’t you want to polish me?”

“You seem to have managed just fine on your own for many years, Kise-kun.”

Daiki grunts, and if they all didn’t know better, the long and pointy fangs protruding from under his upper lip might actually look frightening. “Why are you all here,” he says, crossing his arms in contempt. “Don’t you have stuff to do? Go do something. It’s an order.”

More pairs of eyes than Daiki would have ever deemed acceptable until a few months before roll in unison at their master’s antics, and it says a lot about how much time has passed since the fateful day all of this started, the fact that even _Shintarou_ , in the many years, has developed a healthy amount of sarcasm.

“Like what? Organizing the timetable for an almost uninhabited castle’s activities? Yes, my Lord, let me add that to my endless list of things to do today.”

Satsuki is just as fascinated as Ryouta with the situation. She’s the one who’s always known Daiki the best, and probably one of the few, along with Ryouta and Shintarou, who still have memories—although the longer they remain trapped in that world of twisted wonders, the foggier they become—of how it had been before, of what _he_ had been before. She remembers Daiki’s smile better than she remembers the feel of being human, and when she thinks that the pull on Daiki’s lips distorted by big fangs might look more like an actual smile than a grimace, she feels a spark of hope growing again inside her after such a long time, and she can’t help but marvel at it.

“It’s such a pleasure to see someone finally giving you a good groom. If I had hands, I would have done it a long ago but, oh well.” Satsuki glances at the new, scarily docile Daiki grimacing silently under Tetsuya’s unmerciful tugging of knots, and giggles at how much things have changed. Tetsuya doesn’t seem to be doing the best job with the hair but that was never really the point. “Tetsu-kun is just as reliable.”

“He’s a _butcher_ ,” Daiki grumbles under his breath, but with a new hard pull of Tetsuya’s and at his question of, “What did you say, Aomine-kun?” Daiki only lets out a grunted, “Nothing.”

“Loud teapots in particular belong in the kitchen, Satsuki,” he continues irritably, trying to vent his frustration on everyone else that isn’t Tetsuya—which, really, is a commendable show of consideration on Daiki’s part. “Am I wrong or have you all become quite irreverent and disrespectful, lately?” A sudden, small yelp escapes his fanged mouth when Tetsuya digs the comb a bit too vehemently into the knotted mane. “So— _ouch_ —loud and annoying— _god_ damn it, Tetsu, are you trying to _scalp_ me?”

Tetsuya sighs, defeated, and sets the comb down on the round table beside him. The crack in the surface of the golden candleholder stretches and Ryouta displays a shit-eating grin that Satsuki had forgotten he could pull, as his short golden arm scratches a nonexistent chin, the flame of the small candle leaving fleeting trails of yellow in the dimly lit room as it wavers in the air. “I wonder why that is,” Ryouta murmurs.

No one says anything as Tetsuya starts untangling the worst part of the knotty mess that is Daiki’s mane with his own hands—because even the densest inhabitant of the castle knows the answer to Ryouta’s question. Fingers now threading surprisingly delicately through unruly locks of raven hair, Tetsuya works with a tranquility that creates a bubble of serenity around him, engulfs his surroundings and expands in waves until it permeates the room, the tongues of fire dancing warm on their bodies.

In the soft buzz of content voices floating in the air, Satsuki’s breath catches in her throat when Daiki’s eyelids slowly drop closed, in a display of relaxation and a sense of security that Satsuki’s never seen on his beastly face in the ten long years they’ve been living under the curse.

She prays for the kind of magic that Tetsuya brought with himself to never end.

“I’m not sure whether I’ve expressed enough my gratitude for having agreed to my wish, Aomine-kun,” Tetsuya says after a while.

“I still can’t believe I gave you permission for this.”

“Yes, I was a bit surprised myself. If I may ask, why did you accept?”

Daiki’s eyes reluctantly open once again, blue staring at the crackling fire, probably searching for words that would help him conceal just how far he’s slipped into the trap that is one Kuroko Tetsuya. ‘Idiot,’ Satsuki thinks affectionately.

Even considering Tetsuya’s positive influence on him, Daiki accepting such a proposal was a shock for everyone. Satsuki’s always had great faith in Tetsuya—one might even say she’s his biggest fan, and she firmly believes that if it isn’t Tetsuya who will change their destiny, no one will be able to—but even she had doubts about the chances of Daiki agreeing. When Tetsuya asked—an evening just like any other when Tetsuya appeared out of nowhere beside Daiki with letter in hand and hopeful eyes looking straight into his—Daiki was adamant in his rejection. A straight, ruthless no without losing a beat in the conversation, and he crushed Tetsuya’s hopes with no apparent sense of remorse. And he sulked later—oh, did he sulk, after Tetsuya had gone back to his room and accepted only Atsushi’s company for the rest of the night, about the ‘ungrateful bastard’ wanting to get out of there and leave the castle with those tricky plans of his—and then, four days later, when Tetsuya wasn’t even holding a grudge anymore because he was far too forgiving for his own good, Daiki corrected himself—for no other reason, Satsuki suspected, than in the hopes of eliciting a smile.

And Tetsuya _did_ smile, for once, wide and happy and blue eyes crinkling, and Daiki wasn’t able to deny Tetsuya anything after that.

Daiki makes a face at Tetsuya’s last words, one Satsuki wasn’t acquainted with until Tetsuya came into their lives. It could easily pass as one more grumpy frown in the wide range of Daiki’s angry expressions. But months of silent observation have brought her to the realization that Tetsuya is really good at hitting the right keys to set Daiki’s embarrassment off.

Just the idea that Daiki has occasions to feel _embarrassed_ makes Satsuki giggle in pure glee.

“I’ve always wanted to try humans for dinner,” Daiki answers, though, and Tetsuya slaps one of the horns winding on the side of Daiki’s head, reprimanding. But the next second, his fingers brush the tips, lenient and lazy, seemingly marveling at their sharpness, with no fear in his expression.

“I promise you won’t regret your decision.”

“I’m already regretting it now.”

“With due respect, I believe that’s just you behaving antisocially,” Tetsuya calmly accuses.

“ _Me_? Antisocial? Since when,” Daiki retorts half-heartedly. “Says the one who has shut himself inside a library for days to only read and reread some dusty old books.”

“Excuse me if I was just trying to enjoy the present I received.”

Cocking an eyebrow as he gazes blankly into a memory, Tetsuya starts scratching the top of Daiki’s head distractedly, as if petting an animal, and it’s such an awkward gesture in its randomness that for a very long moment Daiki looks totally lost on how to react, appalled eyes shooting to the side in search of some kind of suggestion. Fortunately enough he doesn’t notice Ryouta giving out a low, pained whine or Shintarou uselessly scowling dishearteningly at the world, first, but Satsuki, who nods her head off at him with an encouraging grin.

“I’m sure you’ll like him, once you’ve met him.”

Daiki snorts inelegantly as he tentatively leans a bit his head back and closer to Tetsuya. “I doubt it.”

“Well, you have more things in common than one would think,” Tetsuya states. “For one thing, athough I’m not sure how well this will turn out, you’re both idiots.”

“Tetsu, you insolent—”

“It’s true, though. You also both eat like pigs. You… you are both good hunters, and… You both can be very gentle and kind despite your harsh demeanors.”

“Huh, no,” Daiki objects, “I’m not gentle. Nor kind.”

“I agree,” Shintarou says unhelpfully.

“Whatever you say, Aomine-kun,” Tetsuya concedes blandly.

Satsuki sighs. Tetsuya would make a good father, she thinks. Dealing with kids seems to be one of his finest skills. “You must be looking forward to it, Tetsu-kun. You seem really happy these days.”

As if wanting to underline the truth of that statement, Tetsuya gives her one of his small smiles. “I am.”

“It’s because you love him?” A frivolous teacup chirps in curiosity from the cart, and Satsuki cringes.

In reality, the whole audience cringes in unison, screeching to an anxious halt. Satsuki watches with worry Daiki’s paws clawing at the arms of his chair, awkwardly waiting with the rest of them, teeth gritted.

Tetsuya looks taken aback too, but Satsuki can’t say if it’s because of the question or the uneasy, static silence palpably pressing him down for an answer. His hand stills on its way to fetch the comb once again. “Huh… no?” he says, slowly, and Satsuki prays that the doubtful sound is given by the surprise. “But he’s a very good friend. He means a lot to me. And that’s why I want him to understand I’m not as unhappy as he thinks I am. And that there’s no need to move the village against Daiki in order to save me, since I am fully capable of managing just fine on my own. I am in no need of being saved.”

“No, you aren’t,” Ryouta says, and his carefree laugh breaks the cold spell tensing in the room’s atmosphere. Everyone stifles sighs of relief when Daiki wordlessly loosens up again under Tetsuya’s combing, and everything is back to normal when he curses once more at Tetsuya’s not-so-careful ministrations. “By the looks of it, it’s Aominecchi and his head who need to be saved from you.”

“Maybe it’s us, from the embarrassment this grotesque romance is putting us through,” Shintarou whispers.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Satsuki hisses from her comfy place on the couch, and all the teacups nod their heads in agreement. “After ten years we finally have some fun and you insist on thrusting that stick up your ass farther than Dai-chan has his.”

Shintarou’s shocked face, sputtering at Satsuki’s unexpected bluntness, is a sight to behold, one that makes her glad some of Dai-chan’s language ever rubbed off on her.

“If not for you or us, take that stick out for the sake of the stick itself,” Ryouta adds. “What if he was a servant too?”

He almost topples over and off the chimney shelf with a screech when Shintarou hits one of his golden arms.

“I could have fallen and set fire to the entire castle!” Ryouta wails, and his usual complaints about mistreatment spark to life again, that being Shintarou’s cue to tune the world out and not care anymore for the rest of the day.

“This isn’t going to work, Tetsu,” Daiki is saying when Satsuki turns her ear back to her most loved duo.

Tetsuya shrugs, the action lost on Daiki, turned around with suddenly all his attention at the chimney fire. “There’s nothing that has to _work_. I just want you to meet each other. And the village not to besiege the castle. Don’t worry so much, Aomine-kun. We’re just going to have a friendly dinner.”

After so many years, Satsuki can affirm quite proudly to have become an expert in predicting Daiki’s bullshit; at knowing when Daiki’s going to say something stupid seconds before he says it. Sometimes she can tell because Daiki’s temper used to blow out in a heartbeat and the right keys one can hit to set him off are far too many to count. Sometimes it’s about the silences, the unusual quiet moments of recollection in which she can almost hear Daiki’s gears spinning madly, walking dangerous paths and usually snapping out of it with the worst resolutions.

And in the time that stretches on silently, as Tetsuya’s clueless simper still lingers on his lips and Daiki doesn’t notice it, Satsuki feels a foreboding in the air. If she was still human and had legs and hands, she would use them to stride towards Daiki and shake some sense into him.

Or maybe not. Maybe she wouldn’t, this time.

Daiki and Tetsuya have slowly found a place with each other, one where they’re trapped in a perpetual dance around the other on light feet—one Satsuki wishes she could change ultimately for the better but that place belongs only to them, and Satsuki has never been able to chase all the demons gnawing at Daiki’s heart on her own. However hard to admit, even in a dance, Tetsuya can still do more about that than she ever could do. It’s not her place to shut Daiki’s mouth. She could have done it before, but now, the game has stepped onto a new level, one she doesn’t wholly belong to. It’s in Daiki and Tetsuya’s hands.

So Daiki speaks up. “You—um. You remember what I… what I told you? That if you want to go, you can. You’re not my prisoner anymore. If you want to go away with him when he does, I won’t stop you.” He pauses, scratches the chair’s arm with one talon. “It’s not like you can stay here forever.”

Tetsuya’s movements slow down progressively until he freezes completely, forehead slightly creasing in thought. Then, he looks ahead, at where Daiki’s eyes would be if he had the courage to face the other. “What do you mean by that?” he asks, careful.

Daiki clenches his jaw. “I mean that… it’s not like we’re friends. Or whatever. There’s no bond tying you to this place and no reason… no reason for me to keep you here. You suck as a servant, anyway.”

Satsuki closes her eyes, unable to look at the two of them any longer, her strength lost all of a sudden. ‘He will accept him,’ she starts chanting in her mind, words that have sadly become a daily mantra for her, ‘he’ll say the right thing. He always does.’

Tetsuya’s pause is long and tense. And then, “Thank you, my Lord. Then I’ll think seriously about it.”

She opens her eyes again at the wrong moment, though; because while Tetsuya’s face has welcomed a mask of cautious impassivity, she has all the time to catch Daiki’s widening gaze of crushing disillusionment and to see him biting back any comeback trying to get out of his mouth because he had offered, and Tetsuya had rightfully taken.

Moments of happiness can be so fleeting, Satsuki thinks. So ephemeral and so deceiving. She doesn’t understand how it can be so easy for all of them, around Tetsuya, to forget their lives, if only for a single moment. Maybe it’s because they’re all desperately trying to forget that at some point in the years, what was an abnormal situation had turned into a truth, whereas the truth had become the abnormal. Being humans would be abnormal; being objects is the reality, and they are slowly forgetting they were ever human in the first place and it’s a frightening thought. It’s so frightening that when happiness does come, when a distraction peeks its head in in the form of kindness and laughter, it’s easier than expected to let go, to enjoy whatever can be grabbed with crazy intensity, to live the moment to its fullest. And so the letdown, the return to normalcy always catches them off guard.

Not even Shintarou dares say something—maybe he’s just too tired, like all of them, to bring himself to fight for what, despite Satsuki’s best efforts to deny it, has always held the heavy tones of a lost cause.

Daiki’s enormous and intimidating figure slowly hunches in on itself as Tetsuya’s words sink deeper and deeper. His face darkens visibly and she can imagine the colors of the world in his vision slipping away.

On the other hand, Tetsuya’s body has become a machine. Mechanically, his hands keep moving around Daiki, focused on the task, but his actions have lost any trace of care, now attacking the mane head-on without any restraint. But it’s clear that whatever Tetsuya’s face forcibly doesn’t show, ends up flowing into his fingers, in a crescendo of violent pulls of the comb that after a while, even manage to snap Daiki out of his pit of self-pity.

“ _Ouch_! Would you—”

“You’re an idiot,” Tetsuya cuts him off, the abrupt coldness hitting everyone like a brick wall. They haven’t seen Tetsuya acting like this many times, but every time it happens, even if Tetsuya is so much smaller and weaker than Daiki, he still manages to intimidate.

Daiki lets surprise have him for the shortest of seconds before Tetsuya’s rage stirs his own into action, like it had been only waiting for an excuse to spark into a fire. He dashes up from his chair and finally turns around, looking down at Tetsuya, still far shorter than him despite the stepladder.

“ _I’_ m the idio—How dare you?!”

“Yes you are,” Tetsuya doesn’t relent, glaring just as intensely. “And I dare.”

Daiki’s growl vibrates deep on his vocal chords, threatening. “You ought to be more careful with your daring, _servant_.”

“Why should I? Because if not you’ll lock me away in a castle, away from my family and friends?”

Tetsuya’s accusation is the last straw. Daiki rises in front of Tetsuya like a tower, in all his height, stormy and desolate, and his fury roars through the halls of the castle, bouncing against the walls and bringing back the memories of ten years of loneliness and dark chambers and blind anger, and when Tetsuya almost steps back and falls off the ladder because of its violence, Satsuki really fears that Daiki’s going to hurt him—that they’re going to lose everything.

Daiki’s load roar still rings in Satsuki’s ears as he lowers his muzzle to Tetsuya’s face and rumbles low, “Because I could tear your head off in one single bite, if I wanted.”

‘Don’t let him see you’re scared, _please_ don’t be scared,’ she mentally prays to the boy, ‘If you show him you’re scared of him after all this time, he won’t be able to forget it.’

Tetsuya’s wide eyed stare seems lost somewhere in Daiki’s, petrified, his slim figure leaning back, away from the other as Daiki seems to look for exactly that, for the smell of Tetsuya’s fear, for an excuse to let it all go once and for all.

Satsuki doesn’t even know what it is that she feels when Tetsuya refuses to give one to him.

“You shouldn’t say things that you don’t mean,” he says very slowly, fists clenching tightly at his sides as he visibly forces himself to lean towards Daiki again, only a few breaths away from white fangs.

Daiki’s startled look disappears into a deeper scowl in a heartbeat. “Who says I didn’t mean it?”

“Why do you never listen to me?” Tetsuya mumbles, a mix of disappointment and sadness lacing his question.

“Oh, I listen to you,” Daiki sneers, but maybe more at himself than Tetsuya. “You can be sure of that.”

Tetsuya’s voice is an unprecedented trill that rips the air. “Then why do you never _believe_ me?!”

“I’m being _realistic_!”

“No, you’re just being a distrustful douche!”

Daiki’s anger flares loudly through his nostrils. “What are you talking about?! Should I remind you that you already tried to escape once?! I still have the scars from the time I needed to save you from your own stupidity!”

Tetsuya’s eyes turn into slits, masking any glimpses of hurt. “…If you still have the scars then you should also remember I came back with you to heal them,” he says, back to a firm murmur, and that seems to be the close of the argument for him, for he steps off the ladder.

“You don’t understand anything, Tetsu!” Daiki roars as Tetsuya unties the sober apron and rolls it into a ball before harshly throwing it at his feet. “Stop lying to yourself about this who—Tetsu.”

Daiki stops in his invective to glare at Tetsuya’s retreating shoulders walking away from the room—from him. “Tetsu!” he shouts again. “Where are you _going_?!”

Hardly concealed by his raw voice, Satsuki hears it, the wavering doubt. The sudden, agonizing fear of witnessing Tetsuya go away again, the hysterical way he always claws at things in an attempt to salvage them when it’s too late already, when the fog of rage starts dissipating and he begins to see through, to the mess left behind.

But luckily, Tetsuya must have heard it too, because he stops in his tracks.

“Upstairs,” he says, calmer than expected, and maybe even warmer, warmer than Satsuki could have ever hoped for. But Tetsuya remains unswerving in his stand. “To fetch your dress for tonight’s dinner, my _Lord_. Or does my Lord order me otherwise?”

An endless moment of silence passes between them before Daiki shakes his head, scowling at nothing in particular. “No.” he says, gruffly. “Go.”

And Tetsuya doesn’t waste time, striding out of the room with quick steps that Satsuki has a hard time catching up to in the hallway. When she calls out to him, he’s already stopped, having heard the clacking of her ceramic bottom on the floor. They don’t exchange words as Tetsuya gently lifts her up in his arms and starts walking again with her towards his room.

It’s only at the sight of the beautiful black and red dress laying on Tetsuya’s bed that she dares speak. “Please don’t be mad at him, Tetsu-kun,” she begs him, now her moment to step in, in order to mend what is mendable. “You know how he is. He’s just…”

Tetsuya sets her on the sheets before sitting on them himself, sparing Atsushi, with his wardrobe door ajar as usual as he sleeps against the wall, an unfocused gaze.

“I’m not mad.”

Satsuki scrutinizes the other’s face, trying to discern the truth. But Tetsuya is difficult to read, or maybe she’s just too tuned in to Daiki’s mind to really understand anyone else. “Okay.” A question presses insistent against her lips and she doesn’t try to hold it back for long, the need for confirmation too strong. “Are you really considering going away with Kagami-kun?”

Tetsuya’s sigh is painful to hear. It sounds tired and demotivated. “No. Why is it so difficult for all of you to trust me?”

His words cut deep, because she knows Tetsuya’s right. Never admitting it to herself out loud, she’s always accused Daiki of lack of trust in others, when the truth is, no one has the right to say that, surely not her. Not when she herself has never truly believed, deep inside, that the change was possible. She wanted to believe, yes. She tried, made herself the support and pillar of everyone’s hopes—tried to stand for Daiki when Daiki couldn’t. But she realized it, at some point: it is difficult to be the one holding their own hopes up. “It’s not that we don’t trust you at all. It’s just… difficult to believe that someone could keep this kind of promise.

“Dai-chan was right about one thing, Tetsu-kun. You’re not bound to this place by anything. We ourselves would have abandoned this place long ago, if we could have.”

Tetsuya finally glances at her, giving her a sad, knowing quirk of lips. “You wouldn’t have.”

She stares at the silky bed sheets, returning a grin to them instead of Tetsuya. “Maybe,” she concedes softly, not knowing herself whether he’s right or wrong. Things are always complicated, when Daiki is thrown into the picture. “But it’s different.”

His lips tighten visibly in disagreement. “It’s not, Momoi-san. I made a promise to you. I’m not going to leave. Not until we’ve found a way to break the curse.”

If she could, she would cry the tears she’s never shed, and would tell Tetsuya that the searching for a way has ended months ago, that they’ve had the solution walking around the lonely hallways of the castle beside them bringing in a fresh, healing air from the outside world for a while now, but none of them can do anything about it except wait, and hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> momoi is me, i want a clock!midorima on my desk and this is also known as 'the one time kise is the Light because he got to turn into a freaking candleholder' (he's secretly very pleased by this whole arrangement).  
> btw imagine when all’s said and done and the curse is broken and kuroko finally sees aomine’s true aspect (along with shintarou, and satsuki, and _ryouta_ ’s). he’ll probably just ragequit everything on the spot because what the fuck man, why are they all so beautiful this place is so fucked up i'm out


End file.
